Around noon, the members finally began to stir.
The room looked like the aftermath of a small, cozy storm—blankets everywhere, bodies in strange sleeping positions, and soft breaths filling the warm silence.
The first one to wake Jinhun blinked slowly, taking in the sight of the others.
Yomin and Minjo were curled up together on the small sofa bed, completely swallowed inside one blanket like two kids hiding from the cold. On the carpeted floor, Teahun, Kim Joon, and Hosu had pushed the coffee table aside during the night and fallen asleep there. Honestly, if Yomin had rolled even half an inch more, he would have crushed them—but thankfully, nothing tragic happened.
Jinhun who had just woken up shifted slightly… and that's when he noticed Jeon.J lying beside him.
Jeon.J wasn't asleep.
He wasn't even pretending.
He was staring at the ceiling with that silent, heavy look you get when something has been eating at you for too long.
Jinhun frowned gently and whispered, careful not to wake the others:
"Jeon.J… what's wrong? You're not acting like yourself. If even one of us changes a little, we all feel it. And you—since yesterday—you've been moving around like you're fighting some invisible battle. You suddenly sit down, you space out… What happened? Say something."
Jeon.J didn't answer.
Jinhun sighed, getting a little frustrated, and tried to sit up. But before he could move fully, Jeon.J suddenly shifted and rested his head on his shoulder. Softly. Like a child leaning on someone he trusts when the weight becomes too much.
Jinhun froze for a second—surprised—but didn't move away.
This meant Jeon wanted to talk… he just didn't know how.
So he waited.
After a few long moments, Jeon.J finally spoke, voice quiet and uneven.
"When I came to Busan… in the middle of our U.S. concerts… I took the fastest flight I could get. It was a connected one from Thailand. They only had economy seats left. I didn't care. I just needed to reach Busan and find Bamson."
He paused, breathing out sharply.
"Jea's seat was a few seats left to me . I sat by the aisle. In the row in front of me… on the window side… there was a girl. I didn't see her face. I only heard her."
"Heard her doing what?" Jinhun asked.
"Crying," Jeon.J whispered. "Very quietly. And she was talking to someone… maybe on call, maybe recording something. I didn't understand the language. Then her voice just stopped."
He swallowed.
"And a little later… she began reading something."
"What?"
"A poem." Jeon.J looked down for a second. "One of Yomin's poems. The one he gave me years ago. I sang it once for blind children… the blessing one. The lines about asking God for light, strength, and safe days."
its lyrics
'O Lord, place a gentle light on the path ahead.
Bless the hearts that wander in fear,
And guide the ones who have lost their way.
Send comfort to the lonely,
And peace to the restless souls.'
Jeon.J continued:
"She was reading those lines. Slowly. Softly. Like she was speaking to someone who wasn't there."
Jinhun blinked, surprised. "That's not strange, Jeon.J. RAMY are everywhere. People love us—it could've been a fan."
"I know," Jeon.J murmured. "That wasn't the strange part."
"Then what?"
Jeon.J lifted his head slightly, eyes troubled.
"The strange thing… has been happening for days. I keep hearing those same words in my sleep. Not clearly. Like echoes. I don't know what language it is… but I keep hearing it. Last night I couldn't sleep at all. That's why this morning I looked… off to all of you."
He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.
"I don't understand why I can hear something I've never heard before."
Jinhun put a hand on Jeon.J's back.
"Jeon.J… millions of people pray for us. Wish for us. Love us. They cry for us all the time, you know that. Whoever that girl was—maybe she was a fan, maybe she was someone emotional, maybe she was just going through something. You're overthinking it. That's all."
Jeon.J didn't look convinced.
Jinhun continued softly, "You're stressed about Bamson. You barely slept. And when we're exhausted, tiny things feel huge. None of this means something is wrong… it just means you need rest."
But Jeon.Jstill looked lost—troubled in a way none of them had ever seen before.
And that was when Jinhun realized…
Whatever Jeon.J heard on that plane,
whatever he felt…
it had stayed with him.
And it wasn't letting him go.
One by one, the kim Joon' house began to come alive.
Not gracefully.
Not peacefully.
But in the completely chaotic, uniquely ridiculous way their little family always woke up.
Teahun was the next to stir. He stretched like a cat, groaned like an old man, then immediately rolled over and bumped his forehead into Hosu's back.
"Ow—hyung!" he whispered sharply.
Hosu, still half-asleep, mumbled, "I'm not a pillow… stop headbutting me…"
Teahun blinked slowly. "Then stop being soft like one."
A moment later, Minjo woke up because Yomin shifted and pulled the blanket off him completely.
"Mm—my blanket!" Minjo gasped, freezing in the cold weather, then began slapping around blindly to pull it back.
But instead of catching the blanket, he slapped Yomin's face.
"Yah!" Yomin shot up. "Why are you assaulting me at noon?!"
"You stole my blanket!"
"You don't own the blanket!"
"It was on me!"
"It moved—gravity exists!"
They started fighting like kindergarten kids until Kim Joon woke up, groaning dramatically.
"Why… why am I sleeping next to these two disasters?"
Minjo pointed at him instantly. "Because you agreed!"
"I agreed when I was sleepy! Sleepy Kim Joon is not legally responsible!"
Their bickering grew louder and louder until Jeon.J and Jinhun couldn't help smiling. The room felt normal again—messy, loud, warm.
Like home.
after long conversation with Jeon.J
A moment later,
Jinhun sat up slowly, scratching his head, blinking at everyone as if they were aliens standing in his living room.
And then he said the line that brought the entire room to a standstill.
"…Why do my feet hurt like something extremely heavy fell on them last night?"
All heads turned toward him.
Jinhun continued, expression confused and innocent:
"And my throat feels like it's burning… like I ate something really spicy. But I don't remember eating anything like that last night. Did I?"
His voice was so serious—
—that Teahun, Minjo, and Kim Joon burst into uncontrollable laughter.
The kind of loud, chaotic laughter that made them clutch their stomachs and fall over each other.
Even Jeon.J, who had spent days looking haunted and distant, finally broke into a real, warm laugh.
For a moment, he forgot the strange girl on the plane.
Forgot the voice in his dreams.
Forgot the worry wrapping around him like fog.
This was his family.
Loud. Ridiculous. Full of love.
Minjo wiped tears from laughing. "You don't remember? Seriously?"
"No," Jinhun said earnestly. "Should I?"
Teahun slapped the floor dramatically. "Oh my God, he really forgot everything!"
Kim Joon leaned back, wheezing. "Let me… let me explain before I die from laughing."
He tried to speak, but he was still chuckling, so Minjo took over.
"Jinhun," Minjo said, fighting a grin, "last night Hosu stepped on your feet. Fully. Completely. Like—he climbed your feet as if they were stairs. Twice."
Hosu covered his eyes with hands. "I apologized!"
"You apologized after he screamed," Minjo reminded him.
"I screamed because he put his whole weight on me," Jinhun argued.
"And then," Yomin added, pointing a finger as if he were presenting case evidence in court, "I brought a lemon juice to help you calm down."
Jinhun blinked. "Yes… I remember lemon juice. It tasted… strange."
Kim Joon exploded into a fresh wave of laughter.
"Strange?" Minjo repeated. "It almost burned your tongue off!"
"That's because—" Yomin raised a hand, confessing like a guilty criminal, "—I accidentally added chili powder instead of lemon zest."
Not chilli powder.. Yomin you added green chilli cut with spoon.Minjo tease Yomin
"You what?!" Jinhun looked personally betrayed.
"It was dark in the kitchen!" Yomin defended himself. "And the lemon and chilli look the same!"
No darkness in the kitchen, darkness in front your eyes because of your drunk, Minjo said with teasing face..
"You almost murdered my throat!"
jinhun said innocently
"It was an accident!" Yomin like innocent
Teahun chimed in, laughing so hard he had to hold his stomach. "Bro… you were coughing like a dragon trying to breathe fire."
"And crying," Minjo added.
"I was not crying!" Jinhun protested.
"We have video proof," Kim Joon said, smirking.
"You know… all of this is probably already on the internet."
Jinhun almost choked. "WHAT?"
"You forgot?" Teahun said. "We were live last night. RAMY probably watched everything. Every scream. Every cough. Every moment Hosu stood on your feet."
Hosu groaned, "Nooo… why did you remind them?!"
Kim Joon shook his head dramatically. "I guarantee it—this moment is already clipped, edited, set to music, and uploaded by at RAMY accounts."
"Millions of them love us," Minjo added. "They notice everything."
"Everything," Teahun repeated. "Your pain. Your chili trauma. Your crushed feet."
Jinhun said . "I hate all of you."
"You love us," Yomin corrected.
"Absolutely not."
But he laughed too.
And through the laughter, through the teasing and chaos, one thing became painfully clear—
This tiny, noisy, foolish group wasn't just a team.
They weren't just members.
They were a family.
A real one.
A safe one.
A beautiful one.
Jeon.J looked around the room—the happiness bouncing off each person—and for a moment his heart felt heavier and lighter at the same time.
If I have all this…
then why do I still feel that girl's voice inside my dreams?
Why won't it leave me?
But he kept the thought to himself.
For now, he let himself laugh with them—
the only people who could pull him back from the darkness without even trying.
Six months had passed—just like that. Time had moved with its own quiet rhythm, and before Zoya even realized it, she had already completed half a year in Busan. Six months sounded long, but the truth wasn't so simple. Some things had gone wrong, some had gone beautifully right. Life had been a strange mix of both.
After the stressful first-semester exams, the university had announced a short break: fifteen days for the students to rest. Minji immediately suggested they all go to Seoul.
"There's nothing to do here during the break," she insisted, tossing her hair back. "Let's go enjoy a little. We deserve it."
Zoya, Hana, and Ruhi would have agreed easily, but there was one problem—their part-time jobs. Their contracts had ended, so technically,(but a reason here of their ended of job ) they were jobless.
Zoya tried to be practical. "Maybe we should stay back and use this time to find new jobs. We'll need money later."
But Minji had already thought of a solution.
"Let's go to Seoul for one week. Just one. When we come back, we'll search for jobs together. I promise. Besides, this weather is perfect for traveling!"
She wasn't wrong. Winter had finally released its freezing grip, and spring had quietly taken over Korea like a soft blessing. The locals often said that spring was a gift from heaven after months of bone-deep cold. Flowers returned, colors returned, and people returned to life. Even the air felt lighter.
Minji, despite being rich, never acted superior. She treated everyone the same—warmly, casually, almost as if she forgot she came from money at all. Sofia was similar; both girls blended in with everyone so naturally that their backgrounds rarely mattered.
Everyone began packing. The rooms filled with the rustling of clothes, the clicking of suitcases, laughter, and the excited energy of an upcoming trip.
15 Days Ago
The restaurant was unusually noisy that day.
The moment Zoya, Hana, and Ruhi stepped inside, they felt it—an unusual buzz in the air. Waiters moved faster than normal, kitchen staff whispered among themselves, and the atmosphere carried a strange tension.
Ruhi glanced at one of the chefs—Head Chef Min-seok—and asked curiously,
"Min Oppa, what's happening today? Why is everyone so restless?"
Min-seok wiped his hands on a towel, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret.
"Today, the owner's daughter is visiting."
"Oh?" Zoya blinked. "We never heard about her before."
Min-seok nodded.
"She only comes two or three times a year. Mr. Kang Jisoo keeps his personal life very private, so most staff don't talk about it. His daughter lives abroad."
"Where?" Hana asked.
"In the UK," he replied. "She lives with her mother."
Ruhi tilted her head. "Why with her mother?"
A short pause followed. Min-seok took a breath and explained gently,
"Mr. Kang and his wife separated years ago. The girl was only five at the time. The mother—who is British—returned to the UK and raised her there."
(Chef Min-seok had worked in the restaurant longer than anyone. He knew almost every secret of the place—especially the complicated personal life of the owner. That was why he understood things others didn't.)
Zoya processed the information.
"So the daughter rarely comes to Korea?"
"Yes. And according to Korean law, she must be allowed to meet her father. In the beginning, Mr. Kang used to travel to the UK himself. But now that she is older, she visits Korea on her own."
Hana asked, "What's her name?"
Min-seok smiled slightly.
"Emily Kang."
Ruhi leaned closer. "Is this Emily's first visit during our shift?"
"Her first time during your shift—yes. But this is actually her second visit this year."
The girls exchanged glances. No wonder the staff looked tense. A visit from the owner's daughter wasn't normal; it meant everyone needed to be at their best.
The restaurant felt warmer, brighter, almost expectant. Even the plates looked shinier, the tables wiped twice instead of once. The quiet corner where Zoya usually stood felt strangely important.
Zoya tied her apron and whispered to Hana,
"Do you think she's strict?"
Hana shrugged.
"We'll find out soon."
But deep inside, Zoya sensed something else—a strange intuition she couldn't explain. Almost like today wasn't only about the owner's daughter. Like something else was about to shift too.
She pushed the feeling aside and stepped into the dining area with a practiced smile, unaware that this day would become another small turning point in her Busan life.
---
Everyone was busy.
Zoya stood at the cutting station, quietly chopping vegetables and passing them to the chef. It was her daily task, and she did it with neat, graceful precision. Whenever she was free, she helped Ruhi and Hana with their tables. Both girls were waitresses—lively, cheerful, always smiling.
Despite their different roles, all three of them were happy. The restaurant had a warm, respectful atmosphere. Most dishes were vegetable-based or halal-friendly, though a few pork dishes were included for local Korean customers.
Zoya never touched those trays.
She avoided them politely, gently—never making it awkward.
One afternoon, when the kitchen was a little calmer, Chef Min-seok finally asked.
"Zoya," he said softly, "I've noticed you never handle pork. Is there a reason? If it's personal, you don't have to explain."
She looked up with a calm smile, wiping her hands.
"It's not a problem, Chef," she said. "I'm comfortable cooking everything else… just not that."
He nodded, curious but not pressuring her.
Zoya continued, voice gentle and respectful:
"In Islam, we don't eat it. It's part of our teachings. But I want to make something clear…"
She paused, choosing her words carefully.
"My intention is never to judge others. Everyone has their own lifestyle and choices. This is simply something I follow to stay true to my faith. It reminds me who I am, and it gives me peace."
Her tone was soft, sincere—like a warm breath instead of a boundary.
Chef Min-seok's expression softened.
"I respect that," he said. "Thank you for explaining so kindly."
Zoya bowed slightly.
"And thank you for understanding."
The kitchen moved on—pans sizzling, orders being called, Ruhi laughing from outside. Zoya tucked her hair under her cap and continued cutting vegetables while the chef stepped away with a thoughtful smile.
It was a simple exchange, but it made the restaurant feel even more like a place where different hearts could stand together without losing themselves.
"Why are we cooking so much today?" Zoya finally asked, glancing at the long line of dishes being prepared. "I mean… all at once? Usually we cook only when orders come in."
Head Chef Min-seok didn't look up.
"That's because today is Mr. Kang Jisoo's birthday. And since Miss Emily is visiting, a small feast is being prepared for all employees."
He added quietly,
"She seems rude sometimes, but it's not her fault. She just carries the weight of her parents' separation. So you stay here, all right?"
"Oh." Zoya blinked. "But what would I even do outside? My work is here in the kitchen. Don't worry, Chef—I'll stay."
Chef Min-seok burst out laughing.
"All right, all right. I'll go check outside myself and make sure nothing is missing."
Zoya grinned as she chopped.
"Chef, you're getting old now. Maybe it's time to retire?"
He gasped dramatically.
"Yah! I just became young again. Don't call me old!"
Zoya laughed.
"You always say that."
"And you always call me old!" he replied.
Their laughter echoed—comfortable, familiar, like family teasing each other at work.
---
Zoya was focused on chopping vegetables, unaware of the presence at the kitchen entrance. The kitchen hummed with sizzling pans, steaming pots, and clattering dishes.
Then she felt it—a sharp gaze watching her.
She looked up and saw a girl, around 25 to 30 years old, standing in the doorway. Not innocent, not timid—confident, commanding, strikingly poised. Nearly six feet tall, wearing a smart black coat. Her light-golden hair caught the kitchen lights.
I think she is Mr. Kang Jisoo's daughter, Zoya thought.
Every movement of the girl radiated authority. Her eyes scanned the kitchen with precision.
Emily's gaze lingered on Zoya for a moment. Then she subtly signaled Chef Min-seok with a raise of her eyebrows.
"Who is she?" her eyes seemed to ask.
Chef Min-seok understood immediately.
"She is Zoya," he said. "She works here in the kitchen—vegetable preparation is her main job."
Emily's eyes returned to Zoya. Her lips curved into a polite smile, though her posture remained stiff and controlled.
"Good. She'll assist me," Emily said evenly.
"I'm preparing my father's favorite dish today. Make sure everything outside runs smoothly—I don't want any mistakes."
Chef Min-seok chuckled.
"All right, Emily. I'll take care of it."
He stepped outside, leaving behind a kitchen buzzing with nerves.
Soon only the junior chefs and Zoya remained. Emily walked straight toward her.
"You're new here, aren't you?" Emily asked. "I don't remember seeing you during my last visit. Have you been here six months?"
Zoya's heart raced.
"Yes, Miss Emily. I'm new, and my two friends are working outside. If you need anything, I can assist you."
Emily nodded.
"Good. Collect the ingredients and bring them to the burner. I'm preparing my father's favorite dish."
Zoya moved quickly, gathering everything Emily listed.
Then Emily said the one line that froze her completely:
"Now I need the meat—pork belly."
Zoya stopped mid-step.
Her mind went blank, her stomach dropped.
She whispered,
رَبِّ إِنِّي مَغْلُوبٌ فَانْتَصِرْ
"My Lord, I am overpowered, so help me."
She repeated it softly, trying to calm herself.
Emily didn't notice at first. She assumed Zoya would continue.
"Pass me the meat," Emily said. "Cut it into finger-sized pieces."
Zoya stayed frozen.
Her hands trembled.
Emily glanced back, frowning.
"What's wrong? Do I need to pass it to you myself?"
A junior chef stepped forward to help, but Emily stopped him.
"I asked Zoya."
She looked at her directly now, irritation growing.
"What's happening, Zoya? I asked you something. Why aren't you responding?"
Still no answer.
Just then—
A sharp, raised voice echoed from the hallway.
"Emily…"
Chef Min-seok.
He recognized that tone—impatient and angry.
His heart dropped.
He rushed into the kitchen.
By the time he reached the doorway, half the staff had gathered there. Ruhi and Hana slipped in but couldn't step any closer—the tension was thick.
Emily stood near the burner, furious.
Zoya stood frozen near the cold storage, unable to move.
"What happened—"
Why aren't you following Emily's instruction? Why didn't you pass the meat?"
Zoya slowly lifted her eyes to him.
A single tear slipped down her cheek.
The chef understood immediately.
He turned to Emily.
"Emily… if you want, I can pass the meat for you—"
Emily cut him off sharply.
"Why? What's her problem? She can speak for herself. This kind of behavior from an employee is not acceptable."
The chef tried to explain, "Zoya doesn't handle pork… she doesn't even touch it—"
"What?" Emily snapped. "What kind of logic is that?"
Ruhi and Hana stepped closer, standing protectively beside Zoya.
Hana spoke calmly,
"Yes, Emily. Before Zoya started her job, she made only one request—that she shouldn't be asked to handle pork. And honestly, she has never made any mistake in her work. We respect her boundary. Even Mr. Kang Jisoo knows about this."
Emily rolled her eyes dramatically.
"And today because of her I got embarrassed in front of everyone."
She looked around at all the faces watching her.
"In fact, today Zoya must pass the meat to me. Otherwise she can't continue this job."
She laughed mockingly.
"She know foreign students always need jobs, right? They have to survive somehow. Fees, rent, bills… so many needs."
Zoya stared at her—surprised, hurt, but steady.
She took a slow breath and walked one step closer.
Her voice was gentle, never harsh, never insulting:
"My knowledge is small, Emily. I am still learning my way in this world. I don't know how many times my holy teachings mention this matter—I only know one thing:
My God asks me to stay away from certain animals, especially pork.
I love my God deeply, so I follow what He asks of me."
She looked down, then raised her eyes again, calm and respectful.
"And about this job…
Sustenance comes from God too.
If my work is not written for this place, then no matter what I do, it won't stay.
So if you want to fire me for not passing the meat… this is your restaurant, and you have every right.
I will accept it happily.
And I don't hold anything against you."
With a soft smile, she removed her apron and placed it neatly on the side table.
She turned to the chef.
"please send whatever salary I have earned to Ruhi or Hana."
Hana immediately stepped forward.
"Why should we take it? We're staying with you. We're not leaving you alone."
She winked at Zoya, trying to lighten the mood.
Zoya gently shook her head.
"No, Hana… you continue your work.
No ruhi said
Where an employee's dignity becomes someone's ego issue, how can we work there?"
Hana sighed.
"I still can't believe Mr. Kang Jisoo's daughter behaves like this. He's such a soft, polite man."
Emily's face went red with anger.
She swept her hand across the counter, throwing all the vegetables to the floor.
Then she walked right up to Zoya.
Emily stared into Zoya's eyes—searching for fear, regret, apology.
But she found none.
Zoya stood confident, peaceful, even smiling slightly.
That made Emily even angrier.
She stormed toward the exit.
"Chef! Fire all three of them. Clear their accounts and send them out."
Everyone standing there felt hurt by her behavior.
Ruhi, Hana, and Zoya stepped out of the kitchen, the atmosphere heavy behind them.
Ruhi tried to cheer everyone up.
"Hey, don't be sad. We'll come back here—but as customers! And Chef will cook whatever we order. And she has to obey us, okay?"
Hana laughed softly.
"That would be fun."
Zoya smiled at both of them, grateful.
Just then, the accountant arrived with three envelopes.
"Your pending salary," he said politely, handing them over.
The girls gave him a small nod and walked out of the restaurant together—heads high, steps steady, hearts still hurting but not broken.
To be Continue...
Regards
ZK 💌